Just like any other sickness
by DC World
Summary: I love my dad so much, but sometimes I wish he wasn't here. A one-shot about Blaine and his dad I wrote as a way to vent.


**My father is mentally ill. And like any illness, there are good days and there are not so good days. Today-not so good. This one-shot ( if you can call it that) is my way of venting. Basically, I took my thoughts, some past experiences and an AU that's been stuck in my head for years, mashed it all together and out popped this. That being said, this is fanfiction. So while all the antidotes that are in this story are steamed from reality, some bits are changed or exaggerated. I don't want anyone one to be worried about me. There has never been any indication that my father would ever hurt anyone in his family. And himself, now that he is on the proper meds. This is just an example of how scary mental illness can be. Also, if you or your family is suffering from any form of mental illness, please don't isolate yourself. Talking about it, or even writing about it like I am, makes a huge difference. This is an issue that I am very passionate about- please if nothing else talk to me. FF is always open on my computer and I love to get PMs. You, never know I might be the one person who knows exactly what you are going through.**

**As for this story, I know it's not really complete and doesn't have a clear sense of direction- and I am fine with that. I may or may not develop it in the future. I just needed to write and post this. Warning, brief mention of suicide and filicide. **

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**June 1st 2016**

I love my dad- I love him so much. But sometimes, sometimes I wish that he wasn't here. There- I said it. And I know I shouldn't say things like that, but it's how I feel. Bill says it's good to let out our feelings every once in a while. That's why he told me to keep this journal .At first; I wasn't so keen on the idea of writing all my feelings down. But now…it's like I can't stop. It's like I have someone to talk to, someone who just listens. Although Bill also suggested I go out and meet/ talk to people my own age. Not that I don't know people my own age, or that I don't socialize. It's just; it hasn't been the same ever since I came back. They don't get it, you know. Sure, they have their own problems- most 21 year olds do. But they don't have my problems.

Mom says I'm taking on too much, that it's not my responsibility. She's always telling me, 'Blaine, honey, you're young. Go live your life. I've been dealing with this for 25 years. I can handle it.' But I know she can't. I can see it in her eyes every time she has to argue with him for an hour just to get him to take his meds. Every time she has to apologise for his outbursts over mismatched socks or crooked pictures frames. Every time she has to remind him to look people in the eyes when he talks to them or that they might not want to listen to Beethoven's 9th Symphony in its entirety. And to top it all off she has to deal with Evan. At least dad and I have a connection- we bond over his obsession with music. So, no, no I can't just live my life and be young and carefree. Somebody has to keep this family from completely falling apart.

**June 2nd 2016**

Bill would be proud- I talked to someone my own age today. His name is Kurt, and to be quite honest, he is probably the most beautiful man I have ever seen. It's odd. I haven't had a crush like this since- well since senior year at Dalton. Not that I haven't had crush since…but it doesn't matter. He's probably not interested in a guy like me anyways. Besides, I have too much to worry about without adding a possible relationship to the mix. He did seem rather concerned when I dropped off the van at Hummel Tires and Lube this morning. He even offered to buy me a cup of coffee and lend a non-judgemental ear. And for a brief moment I contemplated taking him up on his offer- but I couldn't. Besides, how fucked up did I look if a complete stranger noticed I need a pick me up?

Dad and Evan got into a bad fight last night- or should I say early morning this morning. Uncle Dave bought a "new" piano for his bar yesterday and dad promised to stop over for lunch today to check it out. Only problem, the van had an appointment at the shop and I have yet to save enough money for a down payment on a car, leaving the only vehicle available Evan's. And, of course, there is no way in hell dad is changing his schedule. And there was no way in hell Evan was letting him borrow his car. Not that you would expect something more from a rebellious 17 year old who, judging by the fact that he has the "flu" this morning, had been drinking- AND DRIVING. They should not have had the argument they had. And it pisses me off because someone needs to parent that kid. Someone needs to kick his ass. And I'm caught between wanting to step up to the plate and crossing the line. Any rational, sane, adult would have done something, anything. Instead, he's worried about how much gas is in the car and mad that Evan won't let him borrow it. And mom is just trying to get everybody calmed down so the neighbours don't call the cops-again. But I hit the nail on the head there, didn't I. Any _rational, sane _adult. You forget sometimes, because it's always been like this. It seems normal. And sometimes, it's fucking hilarious. And sometimes it scares the shit out of you.

**June 3rd 2016**

I saw Kurt again today when I went to pick up the van. He waved at me, even stopped to say hello. And then I did something totally spontaneous- I asked him if his offer for coffee was still open. I still can't believe I actually did that. And we talked for like 2 hours. About everything- everything except my family. And he is so amazing. So open and honest and funny and…and it makes me feel like shit. Why can't I be that open with people? I mean, I'm not even that open with Bill and he's my fucking mental health worker! I pay him to listen to me "not" talk. Although, I guess in a way he has gotten me to open up a bit seeing as it was his idea to start this journal. I don't know what I'm going to do if I ever see Kurt again. I like him. A lot. And I think he likes me too. And that's the problem. Because how can he like me, if he doesn't really know me? Hell, I don't even know me sometimes.

**June 6****th**** 2016**

Dad and I actually had a really fun weekend. We went to the Fringe Festival in Columbus. It was nice to see dad so happy and so obviously in his element. We even got to jam with a bunch of OSU music students. It was cool to be able to just sing and play and get wrapped up in music again. And for a while it was like nothing was wrong. I miss days like this. To top it off, I saw Kurt there with his dad and step-brother. And surprisingly, it wasn't awkward. He didn't actually meet my dad, but I don't know if I would have minded so much if he had.

**June 7****th**** 2016**

As I am writing this I still can't believe what happened. When I got home from Walmart I found dad in the backyard, filling the rain barrel up with the water hose. It was obvious that he had been crying. When I asked him what he was doing he said he was going to drown the cat. He kept going on and on about how we didn't have enough money to buy cat food and how Muffin was going to starve to death. How we were cruel for letting him suffer. The scary thing was, he loves that damn cat and truly believed that killing him was the best and only option.

And here I am, scared out of my fucking mind, but trying very hard not to show. I don't know what I said, or how I did it, but somehow I convinced dad to turn off the water and take a drive with me. And we just drove. And dad didn't say a word- he just kept crying. We drove until mom called about an hour later, freaking out because we weren't home and we didn't leave a note or even lock the front door.

When we got back home mom came rushing out and ushered dad into the house. And I went into the back yard and climbed the old tree house. As I sat there I found myself letting my mind wonder into dangerous territory. I remember reading a story about a woman who drowned her kids because she was convinced they would be better off dead. I never really understood how someone could get that way. And yet, hadn't I just witnessed that? Maybe, I'm being paranoid. There is a big difference between killing a cat out of mercy and killing your kids. Right? God, I can't think this way. My dad would NEVER hurt anyone.

**June 10****th**

A lot of things have changed in the last three days. Shortly after dad and I came home from our drive mom called the crisis unit and my dad's Dr. And after much debate it was decided that it would be best if dad spent some time in the hospital. He's been there before, but I think this time it will be different. And as bad as this may sound, I'm kind of relieved. It's much easier to function when you don't have to worry about anyone but yourself. Kurt texted me yesterday while I was visiting dad. He asked me how I was doing. And I told him the truth. And it wasn't over text, either. I told him to met me at the hospital cafeteria. To be honest, I was a bit surprised when he agreed. And after I told him everything he gave me a big hug and said he knew exactly what I was going through. Apparently when he was eight his mother killed herself. She has severe clinical depression. I was at a loss of what to say, but he just took my hand and told me I didn't have to say anything. It's funny, I hardly know this guy. I met him less than two weeks ago. And yet, I don't think I have ever been closer to another human being. And as we sat there, in silence, I couldn't help but feel that that no matter what, the two of us were bound to play a part in each other's lives.

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**The ending is weird, but whatever. Reviews would be nice. **


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